


If I fall, will you pick me up?

by freezerjerky



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: Arthur makes him feel something he’s never experienced, and Merlin has a hard time placing what this is. They’d met via argument in the middle of a crowded tube station, then again via Arthur coincidentally being at the same coffee shop and coincidentally dropping Merlin his number. He wonders if Arthur feels this same feeling when he’s around Merlin and that’s why he chose to pursue someone he referred to by some very colorful names.





	If I fall, will you pick me up?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theverytiredgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theverytiredgirl/gifts).



> For the lovely Melissa who wanted reincarnation fic + fall + london (I added the london part)
> 
> This is not my first rodeo in this fandom but it's my first Merlin fic in many, many months. Enjoy!

The groundskeeper has raked the leaves into a neat heart formation, lining the pathways of Regent’s Park. Merlin has always found this level of neatness unnerving, something reserved to entertain the wealthy elite, and there’s certainly a fair share of that in this neighborhood. He tugs his green beanie further over his head, a guard against the chill. On his walk to the park, he’d stopped at Costa for some cocoa, but that only manages to keep his hands cold as he bounces on his feet. He wonders if he’s been stood up, if this is going to be the end of the spectacular thing he’s found, only two not-quite dates in. (But the last one, oh, that ended on a lingering touch of a hand and he wants to feel that warmth again.)

He’s just pulled out his phone when he notices someone waving at him from the gate of the rose garden. Squinting, he ascertains that it is, in fact, Arthur, before he brings himself to wave back. Arthur makes him feel something he’s never experienced, and Merlin has a hard time placing what this is. They’d met via argument in the middle of a crowded tube station, then again via Arthur coincidentally being at the same coffee shop and coincidentally dropping Merlin his number. He wonders if Arthur feels this same feeling when he’s around Merlin and that’s why he chose to pursue someone he referred to by some very colorful names.

“Hey, sorry I was late,” Arthur apologizes, jogging up to him. “Got a bit caught up in the tube.”

“Wow, you took the tube. That’s more common of you than I’d thought.”

“Millionaires take the tube, Merlin.” Arthur shakes his head. “And to clarify, I’m not a millionaire.”

“I’d hope so, because this is a pretty cheap date.” Merlin raises his brows at Arthur as he sips his cocoa. Their plan is to walk through the park up towards Camden Town. Merlin’s going to treat Arthur to his favorite quick serve Indian food in the city and if things go very well, they can get cosy in one of the pubs and sit and chat for a few hours. The rest Merlin doesn’t try to think ahead to. He’s trying not to think too far ahead in this or anything else in his life.

“You’re the one who said you’re paying,” Arthur answers. “If it was such a problem, I’d certainly pay this time as well-”

“It’s fine.” Merlin huffs. “Just a joke. Forgot you probably have that rich bloke pride that makes accepting anything difficult.”

Merlin doesn’t actually know how rich Arthur is. He does know that he’s seen his last name all over the city and that his father works in real estate development. Half of Merlin’s initial hesitation to date Arthur came from the fact that he was vaguely aware of his father’s reputation as a morally dubious person. Housing in London keeps rising and there’s only a handful of names attached as the reasoning and Pendragon is certainly high among them. But he trusts Arthur. From the moment he met Arthur, shouting at him over some article in the paper, he trusted him.

There was that initial feeling inside of him, warmth, comfort, familiarity, and it’s lingered since. They start their walk through the rose garden, past the dead and dying roses and Merlin has to keep Arthur’s attention on him, because for some reason some of the roses decide to perk back to life when they pass by. Merlin’s relationship with nature, with his magic, is complicated. He goes to a few meetings, some simply for people who identify as Pagans, others who outright use the title of witch or warlock. While Merlin is not the one to say what is and isn’t real in regards to magic, he knows that most of these people do not experience it in the way he does.

“Are you listening, Merlin?” Arthur asks, stopping on the opposite end of the garden.

Glancing over his shoulder, Merlin checks that all of the flowers have returned to their pitifully wilted autumnal stage so there will be no worry or explanation. He hums that he has, in fact, been listening.

“Then what precisely was I talking about?” Arthur crosses his arms and Merlin thinks it’s unfair that his chest looks so good at all times, but especially now. There’s also the issue of the pouty look that plays on his features when he’s cross but amused. There’s really no escaping the attraction Merlin feels towards this man.

“You were talking about the concert your awful half sister made you go to.”

“She’s got this whole edgy thing going on,” Arthur explains, continuing his walk. (Clearly Merlin’s answer has satisfied him.) “But still, we just had to go to see Harry Styles for her birthday. Can you even imagine?”

“I think a lot of young men find him pretty attractive.” Merlin shrugs and takes another sip of his cocoa. He’s purposely holding it in the hand that’s not nearest to Arthur. Just in case.

“Is that what you like, Merlin, a Harry Styles type?” Arthur teases.

“I don’t have a type,” he admits, and it’s true. His last boyfriend had darker hair and a full beard. His ex girlfriend was petite and had soft features. Arthur is neither of these things and he’s no less attracted to him than he was to anyone else he’s dated.

“Well, I do.” Arthur’s pointedly not looking at him. Merlin’s not sure if this is going to be something sweet or odd, so he braces himself.

“And what’s your type?”

“Someone who I can have a healthy debate with.”

Merlin laughs at that. He’s really not sure if a shouting match in public is healthy debate, but they certainly both emerged relatively unscathed. It’s certainly appreciated that Arthur’s choosing his type based on something he likes about Merlin, if nothing else.

“I like someone I can argue with as well,” Merlin replies. “But it certainly helps if they’re attractive otherwise.”

“Are you implying I’m unattractive, Merlin?”

“The opposite, but I’m not going to have you goad me into flattery.”

“Give it time,” Arthur says and the bastard chooses that moment to take Merlin’s hand in his own.

 

They spend a few hours in the markets, ducking between stalls and sifting through items. Merlin comes here more often than Arthur, it’s much more his part of the city, but Arthur does his best to not look like a tourist from Kensington. (Merlin’s own words, which Arthur scoffs at because Kensington is still very much so part of London.) Arthur admits that Merlin’s chosen Indian place is passably good and he insists on buying him a mulled wine from a stall, even as he grumbles about the fact that Christmas seems to start earlier and earlier every year.

Through all of this, they keep their hands clasped together. True, they break apart to look at baubles or to take bites of their food, but each time they let go, their hands are quickly searching for each other again. It only reaffirms the feeling in Merlin’s stomach and his head and his heart that Arthur is truly someone special for him. His magic calls out for him, perking back to life the dead things around them or sending little sparks every time he makes Merlin’s heart beat faster. This has happened before with crushes but never to this degree and never to someone he’s just met.

Only it feels like he’s known Arthur for far longer, like they’ve been friends their whole life. No, it’s more than that. It’s as though Merlin’s known Arthur for longer than his own lifetime, stretching back further. This thought is absurd and he has to crush it before he becomes too foolishly, sentimentally attached. Merlin’s terribly prone to liking people more than they like him, or liking people only to have everything end in tragedy. He’s bound and determined to do everything he can to make sure this thing with Arthur is not another of his short lived and inconsequential romances.

They find a pub afterwards, not too far from the tube station, but far enough away from the main crowd. It’s early enough that they’re given the prime seat, a window booth that’s stacked with pillows. The pub’s really trying to put on the pretense that it’s not another of London’s four chains that have taken over most pubs through the city. Merlin looks through the menu as though he’s going to order anything but fish and chips and Arthur doesn’t bother, clearly confident in the fact that he’s going to order the same thing as always. They both end up with the fish and chips, only Arthur asks that they leave off the mushy peas.

It’s only after halfway through their meals that they realize they’d eaten only about two hours prior and aren’t particularly hungry. Merlin doesn’t want to go yet, though, when he’s warm and next to someone he feels something for. Arthur either likes to drink or he shares this feeling, because he insists on buying them another round of beer. When they bring them out, Merlin takes his time nursing his, tracing the condensation down the side of the glass. He’s not much of a beer drinker usually, but there’s something about being in a pub with a handsome man that makes it feel like the right thing to be doing. This beer is a little bit tart and just a little bit sweet, anyway.

“When I first met you,” Arthur says, after they’ve finished talking about Arsenal. “I wasn’t sure I hadn’t met you before.”

“I’ve just got one of those faces,” Merlin remarks.

“No, you don’t.” Arthur laughs and it’s true. Merlin’s face is distinctive enough in a crowd and he’s always been aware of this- his large ears and high cheekbones.

“Okay. Then why did you feel like you’d met me before?” he asks.

“Don’t know.” Arthur shrugs. “When I look at you, you just seem so familiar but I can’t put my finger on what it is about you exactly. I asked you out when I saw you in that coffee shop because I knew I’d be a complete fool if I didn’t.”

“And? Do you still stand by that?”

Arthur laughs, an attractive laugh that’s probably too big for the occasion, with his head thrown back and his hand on his chest. “I think I’m a fool either way when it comes to you, Merlin. But I’m glad we’re here now.”

The hand that was on Arthur’s chest takes one of Merlin’s hands, lacing their fingers together. Even though they’ve spent most of the afternoon hand in hand, this touch in particular feels alarmingly intimate. For not the first time, Merlin wonders if this would be the perfect moment to kiss Arthur. He leans in for his chance at the exact moment a rowdy family enters the pub with their three children in tow, disturbing the peace of the dining hall. Arthur mutters something under his breath about Americans and resumes eating his dinner.

After they leave the pub (they split this bill, or at least the cost of food), they take the short walk to the tube. Merlin’s going north and Arthur’s heading south, so they’ll have to part ways at the turnstiles. That’s alright, because Merlin suspects there will be a third date. And a fourth. And a fifth. An endless number, if he’s really lucky.

“Thanks for today,” Merlin says, as though it wasn’t his idea.

“Any time, Merlin.” 

“Maybe Tuesday?” Merlin ventures. “That movie you were talking about seeing. We could go to the Odeon down in Leicester Square, you can buy me too much candy.”

“This seems like you’re just trying to get free food out of me.”

“Hey! I bought all of my food today, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh yes, I forgot.” 

Arthur’s smile is sunshine warm, the type of thing he doesn’t expect on an autumn day, and he’s standing close to Merlin. Definitely purposely standing close.

“Can I-” Merlin asks, and he can’t get more than half of the question out before Arthur nods a yes.

When Merlin presses his mouth against Arthur’s, for the most awkward and spectacular first kiss of his life, it feels like centuries worth of prophecy has been fulfilled.


End file.
